Knife Ear
by Alimah
Summary: Keelan Tabris, an elf from the slums of Denerim's Alienage, has never had it easy. The only things keeping her going are her family, a sharp wit and her skills with a blade. Yet those may not be enough to save her, at times.   City Elf one-shots.
1. Knife Ear

A/N: Just a few things to mention, first off. I've been on a writing streak, and I'm moderately pleased with what I've come up with. The Dragon Age universe it simply a _wonderland_ for fan-fiction, and my City Elf, Keelan Tabris, is my baby. I welcome constructive criticism and reviews, as it helps me improve my writing, which is something I positively _love_ to do.

In my story, Keelan Tabris is nineteen (19) going on twenty (20) in a few months. I figure she's young because she was getting married in the game. Typically (I've noticed) these arranged marriages happen at a young age. Perhaps Keelan is more stubborn than people give her credit for? Mwahaha.

**EDIT:** It's come to my attention that this story needs some structure, time wise. Hence be prepared for some changes and chapter-switching in the future. I will put a note in the chapters that I've switched, just in case anyone gets confused. Not that they should, seeing as these are spur-of-the-moment short stories. But character development is something I love, so...

I am putting in a timeline to help keep track of where Keelan is in the story.

Warnings: Some scenes of abuse, a racial slur or two, and I think mild cursing.

Timeline: Two years before Ostagar.

_Knife-Ear_

Keelan Tabris hated her job. Dealing with these drunken idiot shems all evening was certainly not her idea of a good time. Dragging Soris and Shianni on all sorts of mad adventures through the Alienage - and occasionally through the rest of Denerim - whilst causing all sorts of trouble for said shems, then relaxing on the rooftops or in the highest branches of the vhenadahl as the sun sets?

Now _that_ would certainly count as a good time.

The work here, despite her grousing, was decidedly better than what other elves had to do. Some sifted through sewage, or worked the docks in extremely dangerous conditions, or picked up whatever scraps the rest of the city threw at them. Keelan had been lucky. Her father was a servant in the castle, and was thus paid relatively well. He had been able to get his daughter a job at the Gnawed Noble Tavern. From what she understood, it was either this or the Pearl.

Not that it needed to be said, but Keelan did not have an interest in whoring herself out, _especially_ to shems. The very thought made her shiver with disgust. Images of their large, rough hands pawing at her comparitively tiny body, groping her in sensitive places, sticking their tongues in her mouth.

_Ugh!_ Vile!

The disgust in her mind must have shown on her face, because one regular, a rather large, stocky man named Tomas gave her a look that made her want to run away.

Quickly she turned on her heel, attempting to scurry away before he could call on her.

"You! Elf!" she stopped, grimacing. _You really need to stop being so... noticable,_ she berated herself. Humans did not appreciate elves having minds of their own, nor having a willful attitude.

She turned slowly, her shoulders hunching instinctively. Keelan straightened her posture quickly, as she recognized her combative stance, and this regular was a mercenary of sorts. Or at least he got into a few fights, if the stories he prattled on about (rather loudly) were true.

"Yeah, you. Come 'ere, woman, and refill my glass." His lecherous smirk taunted her from beneath his scraggly beard.

It was probably not in her best interest to ignore Tomas' demand, instead fetching him a new mug of ale from Harlen the Barkeep. Though she seemed to have taken on a new philosophy: "_Bad decisions make good stories_."

Influence from her mother, her father would no doubt say.

Keelan returned with the mug, setting it swiftly on the table and gracefully snatching the empty one with practiced dexterity. Though despite her training, she was nowhere near her mother's skill level.

"Oi, I tol' you ta _refill_ my glass," he stood from the table, Keelan's keen eyes noted his slight drink-induced instability, "you don't follow simple orders? I'll teach you so' manners, knife-ear."

He lunged toward her, as slow as she expected, and gracefully stepped around him so he fell straight toward the floor. Tomas hit the poorly kept floorboards soundly, but not with the finality Keelan had been expecting.

Tomas' muscled hand shot up with surprising speed, snatching her wrist and yanking her down roughly, his other hand grasping her coiled hair tightly. She yelped in surprise and pain, though her position made it near impossible to break free without hurting herself more.

"Get off!" she snarled, hoping to intimidate him enough to get him to loosen his grip even the slightest. It had the opposite effect. He grinned in return as he returned to his seat, pulling her onto his lap. His companions chuckled at her predicament.

Scenarios played over in her head. _What would the consequences be if I attacked this wretched shemlen bastard? Would I be thrown in the dungeons? Beaten and raped more likely. What of father? Would he lose his position in Bann Rodolf's estate? Would we be thrown out of our home? Chased out of Denerim and lynched by some angry mob?_ She decided, in the end, that it was best to refrain from squishing his eyeballs out. Perhaps he would release her after 'teaching her a lesson' or whatever.

"I think yer beautiful," his breath was hot and _thick_ with the smell of alcohol, her nose wrinkled in revulsion. Any normal woman would have been terrified at those words in her position, but Tabris was no cowed elven woman. She was bold and willful, though some would call that stupidity.

"I think you're a drunken fool," she snarled, struggling against his grip.

_Like some wild creature caught in a cage,_ she thought with some bitterness, though the comparison was not far from the truth.

A companion of his chuckled darkly as he reached over to stroke her ears. Her traitorous body shivered at the contact, both at the highly unwelcome familiarity at his touch, and the considerable sensitivity of her elven ears.

"I think she likes it, boss," his second companion chuckled along with his friend. At this, Keelan struggled more fervently, inadvertently motivating her captor. The distinctive tell-tale sign of his arousal arose a panic in her chest.

"I think so too, Rory." He turned her face to face his directly, boring deeply into her eyes with a violent, lusty glare. "Your ears are so... _beautiful_," he sneered, Keelan knew it was an insult. No human found elven ears beautiful, if anything they found them exotic. Something one would find on a whore. Nothing more.

She opened her mouth to retort, but a cry came out instead as his hand moved from her hair to crush her delicate elven ear in his meaty grip. Her whole body arched, twitching in pain. His grip relaxed for a moment before tugging roughly on the lobe, then flicking the highly sensitive tip hard.

When Keelan tried to jerk away he caught her throat, not squeezing, but letting her know that he could snap her neck if he wanted to. His other hand released her wrist and snatched her other ear, savagely kneading the soft cartiledge, eliciting pained whimpers from the elf.

Tomas and his friends seemed to enjoy this. "That mouth will get you into trouble one day, knife-ear." Keelan felt a hand ghosting her hip, traveling down to the spot in between her thighs, slowly stroking her over the cloth of her dress.

Anger bubbled up from deep within her, she bore her teeth with a growl. Her hand snapped behind her, snatching the full ale mug, bringing it crashing into Tomas' head. He started, yanking roughly on her ear as he released her to clutch his face. Tomas' companions jumped from their seats, attempting to re-capture the elf.

Keelan stumbled over the man as she made her escape, though as he tumbled to the ground he caught her by the ankle. She flew to the ground, her fast reflexes keeping her nose from breaking on the nasty floorboards.

Tomas crawled on top of her, dripping with blood and ale. After a brief struggle he caught her wrists, placing them in one large paw before striking her with the other. Keelan's head snapped to the right, her cheek _burning_ by the force of the blow. Stars exploded into her vision and she tasted copper. As she saw his hand rise up to strike her again, another, familiar hand grabbed her attackers arm.

"I think it's time for you and your boys to leave." Harlen snarled fiercely, glaring daggers at the men, two bouncers flanked him on either side, dirks in hand. Tomas made several stuttering noises before finding an excuse for his actions.

"She came at me and me boys, look!" he gestured to the bloody gash adorning his forehead. Harlen simply snorted.

"This elf is willful, but she knows her place. Unlike you. This is _my_ tavern, and you do _not_ assault my employees, no matter the race." He jerked his thumb to his men, "Show them out."

Tomas growl rumbled in his deep chest, turning a baleful eye to the woman he straddled. "I'll find yah, knife-ear, and when I do..." he leaned in close, whispering into her wounded ears, "I'll break yeh." Harlens hirelings gripped him firmly, hauling the lout out of the tavern.

Keelan scrambled to her feet, swaying only for a moment before inclining her head toward Harlen. She cleared her throat.

"Took your time, ser." She winced mentally; she really _did_ have to watch her mouth.

Harlen simply gave her a hard glance before shaking his head and flashing a weary look of amusement, "You are far more trouble than you are worth, woman."

She smirked, Harlen was always good to her. Well, as good as any human had ever been to her. He gave her a job, he never called her a 'knife-ear', nor did he make any passes at her. Despite his gruff and tough demeanour, he was always... civil with her. It was absolutely confusing, and she suspected some sort of ulterior motive. There had to be one. But for now... she was simply learning to accept this behavior from him. He was a good man.

For a human.

"And yet, here I remain," she smirked, enjoying the terse, playful banter they always seemed to have. To her surprise, he didn't immediately bite back a reply, instead his cheeks flushed ever so slightly. He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance.

"Yer efficient," he waved a dismissive hand that turned into a beckoning one. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Keelan allowed him to lead her to the back room. He dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, squeezing it till it was damp.

Keelan appreciated the distance he kept, clearly recognizing her obvious distrust of humans, but more importantly, he _respected_ it.

Harlen made a noise in the back of his throat, requesting permission to tend to her. With a few moments of hesitation, she cautiously offered the left side of her face. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he pressed the soothing cool of the cloth against the still stinging heat on her cheek.

Soft brushes and smooth strokes took much of the swelling down, cleaning up the cut on her lip and generally making her feel better. Her eyes fluttered as a sudden wave of drowsiness overtook her, this delicate treatment was slowly wearing down her usually guarded vigilance.

_It's surprising to meet a human out there who isn't cruel to elves. There are other elves who work here, but none that serve the drinks or speak with customers. Odd, but then again, none of the others possess my grace and dexterity. Thank you, mother._ Tabris frowned at the thought of her mother, but she pushed the thought back. _Shems are all the same.. but Harlen is good to me, for a human. It's strange, but sometimes it puts me on my guard even more. Wha-_

Her thoughts vanished and she was brought sharply back to herself as she felt the cool of the cloth run along the length of her ear. Keelan jerked back violently, large eyes wide in surprise then narrowed on Harlen.

He quickly retracted his reach, "Sorry, do they hurt that bad?"

"Don't touch my ears," she said firmly. _It's a warning. But... it didn't hurt. Did it? _The sensation was gone before she could analyze it. No human had ever touched her ears with anything but cruelty.

"All right," he laughed a little nervously, "no touchin' the ears. I hear you."

Harlen let the motions of the cloth linger on her delicate jawbone, she seemed so fragile to him, yet she had a willful passion that he had never seen in an elf before. Or a human woman, for that matter.

_She allows me to do this, she hates it when humans touch her, always shying away or lashing out. But she allows me to get this close, so vulnerable, but even so I'm sure she could give me a run for my coin._

Her eyes fluttered, stirring him to continue. _I don't know what to do with her. I want her, but she would never accept it. She would never lay with me. To her, I am a shemlen, even if I am kind to her. Elves and humans together? The scandal from both our worlds. Yet I cannot help my feelings toward her, perhaps... in time she will learn to trust me. Until then, I will keep her safe when I can. Today was sloppy, but the pay-off.. I get to touch her now. _Harlen couldn't decide if it was worth her suffering or not. He knew she was a scrapper, having come in with a black eye or a gash here or there on occasion.

He was so distracted thinking about her that he didn't notice his own hand slowly reaching up, caressing her jawbone.

_Her skin has been kissed by the sun,_ he thought idly as his fingers brushed the soft, supple skin. _What I would give to be running my hands over the rest of her. Her long, proud elven neck, her taut, slender waist. Even those narrow hips are so enticing. Not as generous as a human woman, but that's hardly the point. They're so... beautiful. _

He struggled to suppress the numerous impure thoughts flicking across his mind, calculating whether the table behind her could hold their weight. _No. You have to be better than the others. Prove you can be trusted._

It took more effort than he expected to push the thoughts out of his mind and retract his overly familiar hand from her frozen face.

"Harlen?" she asked warily, tensing her wiry frame. He pulled back altogether. _This is why I have others around, to keep me in check. I get stupid around her._

He cleared his throat gruffly, "Hmph, well, we've doddled enough. Let's get back to work."

Keelan hesitated, casting him a cautious glance before smirking, "Can't have anyone _stealing_ things, now can we?" She paused, "I.. uh, owe you a mug, too. Ser." She appended, feeling she was getting too informal with her employer.

"Hmph, the bugger had it coming. You can repay me by not being so foolish again." Harlen disliked being so... abraisive with women, especially her. It was the only way to keep himself from acting like a prissy poet and embarrassing himself in front of everyone.

"Oh, thank you, Harlen. I'll do my best not to get mixed up in anything." The mischief he saw dancing in those deep blue eyes, like that of an oncoming storm, he knew it wouldn't take long to get herself into some sort of trouble or other.


	2. Preconceptions

A/N: The City Elf origin has always fascinated me (don't get me wrong, I love the other origins, but this one has always stood out for me). Yet I found it a strange thing when I began romancing Alistair with my Tabris. It didn't make sense, not canonically. Of course, this simply begs me to throw in some brooding and some spice. Mmm. I rather thrive on conflict, I love challenging my characters.

Inspiration for these two actually comes from the superlative relationship between _Farscape's_ John Crichton and Aeryn Sun.

Warnings: Brooding, mild angst, very mild language, I think. (To be honest, I can never remember if I put it in there, so just to be on the safe side).

_Preconceptions_

The sun was setting, misty orange light fragmented through the brush. It was irritating, to be honest, seeing she and her companions were subjected to three days of impossibly gloomy weather. No sun, just a layer of grey between her and the sun.

Keelan was glad for the light as she needed it still. Alistair, Leliana, and herself had spent what must have been at least three hours searching for herbs and roots for Wynne. And if by chance they came across a deer or rabbits? It would be well worth the effort.

And the caked mud on her everything.

Except there was no game to speak of. No game. Not even a squirrel. Meat was not necessary for a meal, her family had gone many days without a scrap of meat. Her father was almost infallibly diligent when it came to supplying his family. But to see nothing in the woods? And hardly any roots or herbs? Surely the Blight must have lumbered through here, for there was hardly a scrap to be had.

The point being, she thought, is that if you don't find anything, people will go hungry. And hungry people get stupid. They miss things. They die. You know this. Keelan rubbed her weary eyes, glowering spectacularly. Men. They ate far too much. Back home, she had finely honed skills in regards to taking care of her family. She had to. But here on the road, so many habits had to be adjusted. Sten and Alistair. Big guys. Need a lot of food.

Maker. What an annoyance. She kicked the tall grass violently, petulantly, nearly losing her balance in her fit. To be fair, it wasn't the lack of food that bothered her. On the contrary, she had been accustomed to small portions in the Alienage. The stress was coming from everything else. It had been, what? two months since Ostagar? Two months since everything started falling apart and she was sent on this impossible quest to unite Ferelden under a banner that meant nothing to her, to save the people that had tormented her and her kin.

Keelan huffed, now regretting her outburst. Mother would smack you upside the head, you fool, she chided herself. She ran a calloused hand over the weave in her hay-coloured hair, closing her eyes, attempting to salvage whatever composure she could muster up.

The sun had passed the horizon and dusk had truly set. Night was falling quickly, and she could only hope the others had more luck than she did.

Her keen eyes caught a familiar sight in the underbrush. Upon closer inspection she realized she found the most peculiar sight: embrium intertwined with a thick-stalked plant she forgot the name of. Morrigan would berate her later, surely, for her poor memory. Keelan took her boot knife and drove it into the dirt, quickly unearthing a gangly root. She laughed triumphantly.

"What? What did you find?"

Keelan inhaled sharply, whirling around with her dirtied knife aimed at the voice. Alistair. He held his hands up in defense, a irritatingly charming grin plastered on his face.

"Woah woah, easy!" He chuckled, "I didn't mean to startle you." He continued undaunted. Alistair. Sense... he did not make. Certainly not to her. It was difficult to be around him, as even his smile was disarming. That fact alone demanded she keep a wary guard around him. Humans.

"Find anything?" she asked sharply, bringing Alistair's head out of whatever clouds they were in. He swallowed, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes! Well... not really. I found a berry bush, but I think they're poisonous. Leliana found some sprigs of something, and Zevran found a root- ah! Like the one you're holding. He found several, in fact." Keelan glowered, feeling rather inadequate. Three hours and she found a blasted root? Tch. "As for the others, I don't know. Bodahn has some spice left, and Morrigan is being... well. Morrigan. Aloof and mean. You know how she is."

Keelan shrugged. She didn't really mind Morrigan, as terse and aloof as she was, she suspected the mage was more sensitive than she let on.

"Actually, I came to collect you. Everyone else gave up a long time ago. We were all a little worried, maybe you got carried off by darkspawn or something." He grinned.

But she frowned. "With all the complaining I had to suffer along the road, one would suspect they would be hungrier than that," the sneer in her voice was clear as she cleaved the leaves off the root and stuffed it into her bag, along with the embrium, re-sheathing her blade. "Perhaps next time they can get the supplies at the next town, of their own coin." She hadn't meant for the words to sound so accusatory, but the fact was that she was out of coin. Her clothes were in desperate need of a proper mend, her haphazard repairs being inadequate, making her look like a beggar. Not to mention she was in need of new equipment altogether; a new pair of daggers and a nice new bow. She couldn't trust her bowstring anymore.

Not to mention she needed a new bedroll. It reeked of something awful ever since she was chased out of Farhill. Bann Loren's lands were not as inviting as they seemed.

"Well. I'm sure we'll have better luck tomorrow night, there should be a town nearby," he tried, sounding as though he were grasping for straws.

"Yes, perhaps we can be thrown out of that one as well!" Well. Farhill was sort-of-kind-of-not her fault. A small town against an uppity elf? Not one of her brighter moments, certainly, but her ire from the incident was far from tempered.

Alistair crossed him arms across his unarmored chest. "Are you all right?" Keelan had never been the epitome of a fine leader, but not this... jumble of emotion. If she couldn't lead, he feared everything would fall apart.

"I'm fine," she snapped, attempting to pass Alistair who planted his arm solidly against a tree, blocking her exit. "Alistair." A warning. Except he wasn't stupid. He wanted to know what was going on. To make her happy-normal, again.

"What's the matter with you?" he snapped in return. Keelan curled her lip.

"Nothing! Now let me pass." The Warden attempted to duck underneath his arm when he did not move. She was not expecting him to take hold of her.

Keelan twisted against his grip, but in the awkward angle it was difficult to gain purchase. The elf snarled, "Release me!" Her nimble fingers scratched at his own, endeavoring to pry his fingers out of their iron hold. When he did not, she shouted, "Void take you, shem, I will run you through!"

She hadn't meant it truly. Deep down she knew that. But apparently the rest of her didn't quite understand that as her hand reached toward her knife. Alistair had heeded her warning and pushed back from her, sending her stumbling. Keelan's back struck a thick tree trunk, eliciting a pained grunt.

What had she just said? Her large, round eyes peered up from beneath her brow, suddenly shamed to look him in the eye. What she found in his own eyes shamed her more; hurt, pain, anger. He had been so different from the humans in Denerim, so different she didn't know how to act around him. So foreign was genuine concern and compassion from a human... that she drove it away. She could not distinguish it, it seemed.

"I-I-" she stumbled over countless empty words, nothing came to mind to save her from herself. Alistair started towards her and she stiffened. Her instincts urged her to do anything but stand there like some petrified creature, allowing itself to be captured.

Alistair froze as well, clearly unsure of how to proceed, becoming more frustrated in the process.

"Can you ever _stop_ acting like this?" He scowled intensely. "I am here to protect you," his voice faltered for a moment, "not... gut you in your sleep, or whatever."

Keelan averted her gaze, falling on the deep-rooted reflex to yield when rebuked. It angered her, deep down, but on the other hand she did not know what to do under these circumstances. When she did not speak, Alistair sighed explosively, pacing somewhat.

The pair of them remained quiet for several long moments. During those moments, Keelan did not move from her position, though she felt Alistair's heated gaze. She could practically hear him putting it all together. His next question could only be one thing.

"You don't trust me, do you?" Alistair murmured, the hurt in his voice causing Keelan to stiffen further. Still she said nothing.

She heard two quick, heavy steps come towards her and Alistair was so close she could feel his breath fuss with a few stray strands of hair. His calloused hand took her chin firmly but gently, turning her to face him. His forefinger instinctively stroked her jaw before he stilled himself, opting to simply stare into her eyes.

For a moment he was caught off guard as their eyes met, her cunning, penetrating eyes, blue like the sea after a storm, staring at him with experience unbecoming of a woman her age. So wise and yet so terribly wild. Her elven bone structure and proud, strong nose seemed to confirm the wisdom behind those untamed eyes. Her thick, flaxen mane of hair only intensified by her sun-kissed skin, firm and smooth beneath his fingertips. Alistair noticed a jagged pink scar coming from underneath her left earlobe, only serving to lead his gaze to her long, pointed ears. Elegant and exotic, his eyes traced her features. For a moment he intended to kiss her pouting lips, if only see that enigmatic smirk that could sink ships and send poets into a fervor to describe it.

Instead, Alistair swallowed and asked her again, "Do you trust me?"

This time Keelan held his gaze, the pitiful creature that was once before him slowly becoming more defiant. With a heavy heart she shook her head and Alistair faltered.

"Keelan," he gave her chin a gentle shake before falling back to his side. "I will never betray you. I would never hurt you. I don't know what I can do to make you believe it."

"Alistair," her voice croaked. Images flashed across her memory. Kindness among humans was rare in Denerim, the kindest being Harlen Vargus, and even he wasn't entirely honorable. Yet how often had it not betrayed her? How often had she come home with new bruise for her father to anguish over? How many times had she simply been _lucky_ enough to make it home in one piece? How much had humans taken away from her? Trust in humans was a frail prospect, a lesson that was hard learned. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you ever talk, then? Help me understand? I want to help you, Keelan." The elf straightened, sneering in indignation.

"I don't need your help, nor do I desire your pity." Her piercing gaze did not leave his, "Quit this game. I've seen it before."

Her mouth didn't know when to shut up, it was burying her.

The rose had long since died.

The ex-templar rubbed underneath one eye in frustration. "There is no game, Keelan. I'm not..." A dark, thoughtful look flickered behind his eyes. "What happened?" He wanted answers, and Keelan didn't know how to tell him.

Keelan pushed off the tree, brushing past him but stopping short. Her thin, wiry arms crossed across her stomach. She wanted to trust him, Maker knows how much she wanted to. But she didn't know how, nor why she wanted to trust him so badly. Several times her mouth moved with no words as she struggled to find the words to the jarring song in her core.

"I am the product of my upbringing, Alistair. Perhaps you missed the part where elves are considered to be little more than tools and slave labour in a society where slavery is no longer practiced. Humans have so very rarely boded me good. I can count them on one hand, and you, Leliana, and Morrigan are included.

"Trust is not something I am inclined to give out easily, especially to a human, for very good reasons. Reasons that left their scars, one way or another."

Alistair recalled the cruel scar by her ear, wondering if that was one of her reasons, if someone had tried to sever her ear. He thought back to Redcliffe Castle, hearing the demon possessing Connor mention how he cut the ears off the elven servents, then feeding them to the dogs. He shuddered at the thought and his blood boiled. It not only angered him that people hurt her, but he was even more furious that there were people, demon-free, that were capable of that cruelty. To mutilate her body, claiming her ears as some... some trophy.

Alistair found himself desperate to hear her speak of her past, so he pressed his lips together to keep himself quiet.

"I am far from perfect, or even decent, Alistair. I am what I am, and as much as I wish I could trust you with more than my life... I-" she breathed deeply, her throat constricting as she forced out the words, "I ruin lives, everything I touch. I can't let that happen. I can't because I can't go through all this again," she hissed, "and I_ can't_ hurt you."

Alistair flushed gloriously, completely taken aback by this confession, of sorts. His brow furrowed as he ran over her words again and again. _Could it be that she has feelings for me? That this anger could stem from the same frustration I feel?_ It hurt for him to imagine what could have possibly happened to his friend that she could become so jaded and distrustful to confuse kindness for cruelty. Was that scar by her ear the only one? Or were there more unseen that he would most likely never discover?

Regardless, he squared his jaw and swallowed hard, stepping up behind her.

Keelan squeezed her eyes shut, her posture rigid and hunched as he came closer. Spilling her guts to a shem? Unthinkable. Yet, here she was... speaking a truth she didn't want to believe.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips when his hand snaked around her shoulder to take her chin so gently, she relaxed enough to turn and face him. _He is so close._ She could feel his breath, hot and quickened, on her mouth. His hand slid to cup her cheek as she tilted her head into his hand, slowly, timidly leaning in, unsure. Alistair followed her lead, feeling emboldened by her acquiescence.

She gave the barest of kisses, her bottom lip brushing his upper lip. Her heart beat wildly in its cage. With fleeting hesitation she closed the distance. His inexperienced mouth worked against her more... practiced one. This feels... right. He's good to me- Keelan pulled away.

Alistair was all shades of red, even his ears were blushing. The elf couldn't resist one of her ephemeral smirks. But the amusement died on her lips when her mind came back to her, reminding her why she stopped. Keelan tried to step back, only to find his hands planted firmly around her slender waist. A wave of panic surged through her, but when she pushed again he released her. Albeit reluctantly.

"This is... too fast, too strange. I don't- I can't-" she sighed, lowering her head. Alistair frowned sadly; worried, possibly, she surmised. His next words surprised her.

"Well, whether you like it or not, I'm willing to risk it. You are worth the wounds." He smiled softly as she met his gaze, taking the opportunity to tuck a few loose strands of her straw-coloured hair behind her elongated ears.

_I hope you still believe that by the end of... whatever this is._

Keelan suddenly threw herself back, dusting her sleeves and brushing her hands across her face to clear imaginary imperfections. Weakness. She felt off-balance around him, and it unnerved her.

"Yes," she cleared her throat, starting off toward camp, "we'll see how you feel about that in a few weeks."

"Days, more like," he chuckled. Keelan met him with a gaze of collected amusement.

"Very funny," she mused, mischief dancing behind blue eyes. Alistair had a sneaking suspicion, then, that she was not necessarily joking. A prospect he found both terrifying and impossible to resist.

But with a woman like her, could one expect any less?


	3. Matters of the Heart

A/N: Prompted by a conversation with Wynne in camp, so I thought I'd elaborate on it.

Warnings: Mild bickering and some light brooding.

Timeline: Five and a half months since Ostagar

_Matters of the Heart_

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" Wynne asked softly as the elven Warden strode by, arms full to the brim with branches and twigs for the fire. The question caught Keelan off-guard and she faltered, nearly dropping her 'haul of the day'. She scowled at the mage.

"Excuse me?"

"You and Alistair, don't think I haven't noticed." Wynne chuckled as Keelan's cheeks flushed deep crimson. "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going."

Keelan opened her mouth to retort but Wynne soldiered on.

"Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt."

Facing Wynne's stern stare made Keelan nervous, a talent most likely hardened by _years_ of practice on students. Besides, Keelan had faced down plenty worse than this old bat. A flicker of a smile passed over her features before she caught herself, curling her upper lip slightly.

The Warden had to give the woman credit where credit was due. The perseverance of this opinionated old mage with her incessant nagging was awe-inspiring to say the least. Even Elder Valendrian's tedious sermons were easier to suffer. Wynne had a point, but for Keelan, this was far deeper than she was willing to acknowledge to the others. Why? It wasn't their business.

"I don't appreciate your scrutiny," her voice low and steady.

"You are both Grey Wardens, and he is the son of a king. You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires."

Keelan reared her head, advancing on Wynne, "Will you stop going on about responsibility and all that _crap?_ I can handle my responsibilities _and_ my relationships."

Wynne met her fierce glare steadily; patience and years of life experience on her side. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, one who may occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish." Her eyes narrowed at the elf, her lips thinning. "You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love.. and saving everyone else. What then would you do?"

"What am I supposed to do, then?" she scoffed, avoiding the answer to that question. "Do I tell Alistair to go away?" It was a losing battle. There was truth to Wynne's argument, of course there was. _But I'll be damned if I'll let fate decide who I can and cannot be with. This is __**my**__life, a life that was stolen from me, one with limited time._ The latter seemed the crux of her obstinance. Thirty years. Before this mess it was unknown, it was a _choice_, even though it really wasn't. The illusion of freedom was a curious one, indeed. _Ignorance is bliss, as they say._

The old mage folded her arms, "You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on."

"Seriously? So instead of trying to find a form of happiness in this wretched place with one of the select few who can share it with me, I should inflict pain on Alistair now to save him pain later on? Great logic," she sneered with a bitter laugh. Either Wynne was very patient or deceptively angry.

"I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

Keelan huffed in annoyance, taking her cure, she fled the mage's company with as much grace as an awkwardly stacked bundle of sticks would allow.

Casting them unceremoniously beside the fire caught Leliana's attention. The bard eyed Keelan discreetly, concerned. Leliana averted her attention to her bow when Keelan shot her a sharp glare. A challenge, albeit a weak one. Even Zevran, who was sharpening his blade, gave her a curious glance. He, too, looked away when their eyes met.

Promptly feeling all too exposed in front of these clever rogues, she swiftly turned on her heel and strode from the campfire. It never ceased to amaze her how close she had become to what most people would suspect to be the most untrustworthy: an Orlesian bard and an Antivan assassin. That tried to kill her. _Maker, none of my friends are __**normal.**_ All she knew right now was that she was heading over to the only one who wouldn't pester her with inane questioning. Wynne had managed to stir up some insecurities Keelan had thought sorted.

Keelan halted in her tracks, her keen eyes and ears picking out Alistair's broad frame crouched in front of her dog, his arms resting on his knees, leaning in close while murmuring something. She smirked. It was always amusing, watching people interact with her dog. Though Korin loved to tease him something fierce. Staying just out of range, she listened to the conversation.

"I once heard a really old legend about how the hound warriors in the days of the old tribes would feed their mabari the flesh of the vanquished."

_Oh Maker's breath,_ Keelan chuckled softly. To her astonishment, she found she enjoyed listening to him chatter away. He reminded her of Soris, on those days, how he'd go on about nothing in particular but with such plucky enthusiasm. Though she didn't speak much in return, Alistair more than made up for it. It was strange how they seemed to fit each other.

Korin, on the other hand, did _not_ seem to enjoy Alistair's particular brand of chatter.

"Well, that's what I heard anyway. Sometimes it would even be _human_ flesh!"

Korin heaved, ready to hurl.

Alistair scoffed, "Oh, like you could tell the difference. For all you know, you may have already been fed something... _someone_."

Her mabari whimpered, cowering at the thought. Keelan rolled her eyes, she was no expert on this breed, but she had seen enough to know these mabari were entirely too clever for their own good. Especially with people like Alistair to pester them with these childish folk tales. Not that she had a problem with stretching one's creative side, but no one harassed her dog.

"Don't listen to Alistair. He's full of rubbish," Keelan reassured Korin, who barked happily at her appearance, licking her hand and sitting by her feet.

"Hey!"

She smirked when he pouted, rising to his feet, "You didn't have to ruin it, you know." Keelan shrugged simply, clasping her hand behind her back. Alistair sighed in mock anguish, "Oh fine! Ruin my fun! Be serious all the time... It's no wonder Sten likes you so much."

"With all your snark and mockery, I'm surprised you and Morrigan aren't faster friends," she drawled with a sardonic grin.

He hissed approvingly, "Ooo, ouch. A fair point, I suppose." He grinned mischievously, "So... you came all the way out here to talk to me? Or to Korin?"

"Korin, of course," she deadpanned.

"I don't think so, _I_ think you wanted to talk to me. I know I'm rather irresistible..." he sighed with arrogant indifference. The smug grin playing with the corners of his mouth told a different story. She felt a smirk on the fringes of her lips as well; she was always good at reading people, particularly humans. Alistair was an easy read; a welcome change of pace.

"Hm, you have me there." His brow pricked up in surprise and she flushed when she realized what she said.

"Uh huh. So... what's up? You look like you have something on your mind, at least."

Keelan swallowed hard, suddenly feeling defensive. Hadn't she come out here to get _away_ from the prodding? Especially coming from Alistair.

"Um, no. I.. just wanted to see what you were doing." Her fingers toyed with the fraying end of her mother's green ribbon. Alistair seemed to recognize the behavior, giving her a gentle knowing smile. "Right. I'll be going now." She turned on her heel to go... elsewhere. Anywhere but here.

"Hey," he touched her shoulder, his voice was soft, gentle, pleading. "Is everything all right?"

_No, of course not. I'm only struggling to decide what's more important to me. You or family. Family I can never see again._

"Yes," she lied. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Keelan, stop. Please, just... stop trying to pretend everything is fine for one minute and _talk_ to me." His uncharacteristic seriousness stopped her cold, once again. She sighed, turning to face him, though her eyes didn't quite meet his. "What's brought this on?" When she didn't answer, he cocked his head, trying to meet her gaze. "You don't have to hide from me."

"I know, Alistair. I don't want to hide from you, or anyone. This is-"

'This is' what, exactly? Unspeakable? Foolish beyond belief? She was an _elf_, and he a human. In her experience, elves and humans never mixed; back home, an elf being involved with a human would be humiliation for the family, a betrayal. If she were to present Alistair to her father as her lover... There was no doubt in her mind that she would have dishonored him, and most likely she would be thrown out. It would be a scandal. An unforgivable trespass. Keelan hadn't exactly left the home on good terms, though she knew she had friends back home, it had truly surprised her how many had been _glad_ she was exiled. Abandoned by her own kin in her most desperate hour. Whatever this _thing_ with Alistair was, Keelan would never be allowed to return home.

Yet Keelan knew was this was. She had fallen in love with a human. Despite everything she had suffered throughout her life that was attributed to the blighted shems. The slur 'knife-ear' barely phased her anymore, it was so common. So many times she had come home with a new bruise, a black eye, desperately trying to hide it from her father. The shemlen killed her mother, they abused her friends, her family, they trashed her _wedding_, raped Shianni, and killed her one chance at a normal life, full of family, life, love.

No matter what she did, Keelan could not put enough distance between herself and Alistair. This human who protects her, takes pains for her in her stead. One who speaks gently, patiently, waiting for her to come to him. He would crack a joke when she half-expected a slap or a threat, if only out of habit. Keelan felt caught in this trap, unable to wrench herself free.

However, Keelan understood this was no trap. She had fallen in love with _Alistair_, an ex-Templar Grey Warden bastard prince. Not just some 'human'. He was unlike any man she had ever come across. Save for Harlen, perhaps. The life she lived now was a new life, a cursed life, but it was hers, and if she could spend it with him? It may not be so bad.

Keelan smiled bashfully at the thought, "I care about you, Alistair, more than I ever thought possible. I just... uh, need time to understand what that means."

Alistair smiled, boldly stepping closer, taking her slender hand into his. To both their surprise, she didn't pull away.

"Well, my dear. I'm not going anywhere in a hurry, if you'll have me, I'll be here with you." He tilted his head to hers, leaning into her. His breath was hot on her lips, his own brushing hers softly, waiting for her.

"Unless one of us dies," she added teasingly, feeling a little more breathless than she should. Alistair snorted, pulling away to look at her while his hand traveled to her waist. The heat rose to her cheeks. _Andraste's ass_.

"Oh, I see," he sniggered. "You're a romantic. Poets shall be jealous of your lyrical prowess. Bards will spin glorious tales of your impressive abilities to _woo_ all those you _desire_," he purred, his teasing tone not quite so teasing.

"I should hope so." Her free hand instinctively rested on his chest, deft pads fingering a long raised scar under his cloth shirt. _Mmm, that Templar training served him well._ Keelan ducked her head away from him in attempt to hide her deviant grin. He removed his hand from hers to lift her chin to face him.

"In all seriousness though-"

"You? Serious? Has Thedas fallen into the Void?" she feigned shock.

"Augh! I know! It should be a crime. Really, though, Keelan. I will brave anything that stands before us to be with you," he murmured softly, his calloused knuckle brushing her slight cheekbones. Her heart skipped a beat at the gesture.

"A-and should the worst come to pass?"

Alistair shrugged indifferently, "That's why we make the most of what time we have."

She liked the sound of that. Without thinking, the Warden tugged on his collar, bringing his mouth crashing into hers. He stood stunned for a moment before he relaxed into her, one hand finding her waist and the other snaking into her straw-coloured mane of hair. Their tongues danced together, becoming more confident in their brief moment. A hint of a moan escaped her lips as he pressed himself closer, snapping her back to reality. Keelan pulled away from the kiss, but not from him.

"You are... rather persuasive, Alistair," she mused thoughtfully, her fears felt distant, muted. _She_ kissed _him_. _Yes, this could work, just... be patient. No need to rush, take your time, make the most of what you have._

"I have my ways. If you didn't already know, I _am_ ridiculously charming and-" Keelan silenced him with another, albeit shorter, kiss. Anything that had been on the ex-Templars mind was promptly forgotten in lieu of _her_.

"-Pushing it," she finished for him. A sly grin crossed his features, pulling her closer.

"It seems I will have to do that more often."

Keelan chuckled, "Indeed."

* * *

><p>Wynne glanced over at the couple from across the fire. The mage shook her head skeptically. Grey Wardens had responsibilities. With love distracting them from their true goals, things could spiral out of control, people could die.<p>

Both were young and inexperienced, though she suspected Keelan had seen so much more than she would ever say. She had heard tales of the lives of elves in the Alienages. It was a difficult life, as she understood it, yet this young woman brooded too much for her own good. Wynne saw her insecurities, she recognized her highly defensive nature. In her humble opinion, the two seemed a terribly peculiar and unlikely couple. They were near complete opposites. She was dark, aggressive and grim while Alistair was plucky and almost always in good spirits, happy to talk your ear off if you let him. He was a fine young man and a skilled warrior, but he knew almost nothing of love. The elf seemed to be more adept at the concept, but fearful of it. Perhaps she had lost someone important? No one ever seemed to ask the Warden of her past, curiously.

The elderly mage sighed, threading a needle to repair Alistair's spare shirt. She disliked this 'grandmotherly' type of thing; however, it kept one busy. She glanced up at the couple again as they kissed, and she smiled. Despite her wariness of this strange relationship, she couldn't help but reserve a small admiration for the pair. An unexpected love in the most unlikely of places.

Her advice still stood, of course. Love was painful, no matter who it has ensnared.

Wynne chuckled softly, watching them come back to the fire.

_Young love._


	4. Six Days, Pt 1

A/N: This story had gotten so long I had to split it up. 'Tis a shame. For those of my readers demanding (term used loosely) exposition for Keelan's character and motivations, Merry Christmas.

Warnings: Some (mildly?) graphic scenes, cursing (mostly elvish), and some angst.

Timeline: Six days before Ostagar.

_Six Days, Pt. 1_

_"I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding," the dark-skinned warrior bowed courteously. Keelan was not impressed, but for her cousin Soris' sake, she restrained her impulses in exchange for diplomacy._

_"Thanks, but please leave. I'd rather avoid any unpleasantness," she said tersely._

_He blinked, perplexed, "What manner of unpleasantness might you be referring to?" _

_"The kind involving our boots in your backside." Keelan bit, jabbing her finger in his direction._

_"Um, that's not what she meant to say. She meant it just might be easier for everyone if you moved along," Soris interjected nervously, stuttering over his words. Keelan shot him a sharp glance._

_"I can speak for myself, Soris."_

_"Thank you, Soris," the human nodded politely, "but I wish to hear what she has to say."_

_Keelan composed herself, though beneath the steady demeanour she was tensing, ready to fight. "I will ask once more, politely, please leave."_

_"And I refuse, yet again. Now what?" His dark eyes watched her closely, studying her with that controlled curiosity. Frankly, it irritated her._

_"I'm not backing down. This is no place for you."_

_Keelan was aware that the human was bigger than her, stronger than her, and judging by his armor and weapons, he was an experienced rogue. He showed no fear, only fascination, always calm. Her chances were slim to none, she knew it, perhaps she could keep him busy for a minute or two, but if this battle she would die. However, that didn't stop her from trying to prove a point._

_"Surely it has not escaped your notice that I am both armed and armored. Any fight between us would be rather one-sided."_

_"All the more reason for you to go!" _

_The 'armed and armored' human shook his head, folding his arms, "I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving. Unless you intend to force me to do so?" His brow quirked in the most infuriatingly calm fashion. Keelan narrowed her eyes at the shemlen._

_"I'm no stranger to battle, bring it on!" Keelan rolled her shoulders, fighting in her wedding dress? She didn't know who would be more angry with her: her father, Shianni, or Nelaros._

_"Try not to die! I'll go for help!" Soris started._

_The human put up his hands placatingly, "No need. I am not here to fight you. Still, I find such bravery most impressive, do you not agree, Valendrian?"_

_Keelan had not even noticed the elder come in. Instantly she relaxed her stance, nodding respectfully toward elder Valendrian._

_"I would say the world has for more use of those who know how to stay their blades. It is good to see you again, my old friend, it has been too long," Valendrian smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling noticably in his old age, squeezing the human's shoulder affably. He bowed, with a faint but fond smile in return. "May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden."_

_Keelan frowned, "Why should I care?"_

* * *

><p>Bells sounded from the city of Denerim; the mournful sound echoing throughout the rugged Ferelden landscape. Keelan cringed when she heard the sound, glancing back at the fading city filled with guilt and shame. Even though she had been spared the fate of Denerim's dungeons, she still lost. She lost everything that mattered to her. She failed her Shianni, her father, Nelaros, Valendrian... Now she was being lead from her home, the only place she ever knew and in six days time she was to fight a war that she knew nothing about with people she could not trust.<p>

Her life was supposed to be simpler, Keelan was convinced of it. Naturally she fought her father on the subject of her marriage, but her father was right. No one can run forever, at some point one must stop and begin their life. She had thought.. that her new life would be with Nelaros. _I would have made a good mother, I know it. Mother had taught me well. I could protect them, I could teach them-_

Keelan cut her thoughts short as her throat constricted, the emotions she was holding at bay threatened to overwhelm her. Despite what Duncan had done for her, he was still a strange, armed human. As he had put it himself.

Duncan cast a sidelong glance at his grim elven recruit. She had shown remarkable potential; she was precise, fierce, determined, and skilled in combat. Despite his success in finding a recuit, he wished she need not have suffered so much in order for him to recognize her abilities. Keelan was so much like her mother, the prodigious Adaia Tabris. It was like looking at a younger version of her mother, though with a fairer complexion. However, she was unrefined. She was reckless, destructive, and angry. The fact did not trouble him much. While he knew from experience that was a precarious position for a child to be, it was also common.

Grey Wardens answered a calling, it was destiny, fate. He knew what he was demanding of the girl. Her journey would cost her her life, be it in the upcoming battle, or when she heard her own calling.

If she survived, that is.

The sun had reached its zenith and Keelan's grief had simmered, allowing a bitter anger to overtake her. The feeling was very familiar; it was what overtook her for so long after her mother was killed. The anger never really went away, like so many other things one wishes forgotten, it simply lingered in the shadows of one's mind, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take hold. Now there was no one to protect her from herself; it was her in a foreign land that was her own, amongst the very people who had segregated and discriminated against her people, only this time with no Alienage to seek as refuge.

She had lost.

* * *

><p><em>"Oh, you look stunning, Keelan," Shianni circled her cousin, inspecting the dress quite thoroughly. Keelan rolled her eyes, throwing her head back.<em>

_"I look __**ridiculous**__ in this get-up, Shianni!"_

_"No you don't. You look great." _

_"With only your word, cousin," Keelan arched an eyebrow suspiciously. Shianni gasped most dramatically, making her cousin chuckle._

_"Now, now. Would I ever sabotage you?"_

_"Ye-"_

_"Point is: your fiance__e will love it. I asked Uncle Cyrion, and he said, and I quote, 'He's handsome enough, Shianni, now rouse your cousin!'" Keelan burst out laughing at Shianni's impression of her father._

_"He better be, I'm going to be terribly disappointed if my husband-to-be turns out to be like Elva's. Ugh." The pair grimaced as if the subject left a bad taste in their mouths._

_Shianni gathered her cousin's long yellow hair from her shoulders, braiding a circlet of hair around her head and gracefully weaving Keelan's old green ribbon into the pattern. The two grew quiet as Shianni plaited her cousins hair. The silence that loomed over them was unnerving. Keelan was not the most talkative person in the world, nor was she the most easy-going, but Shianni recognized uneasy silence when it smacked her in the face.  
><em>

_"You don't want to go through with it, do you?" It was hardly a question. Their little 'trio' was so close, they often knew what the other was thinking without saying. It made getting things done, meaning things not strictly speaking legal. And she and Soris __**knew**__ Keelan, Soris had even suggested that Keelan had only acquiesced to her father's choice because of just that: he was her father. Arranged weddings were tradition, it was smart; elders chose your mate because they had experience, they knew what was best._

_"Am I that obvious?" Keelan smirked half-heartedly._

_"Unfortunately, yes, my dear. You need to work on your tells." Keelan chuckled. "I know you'd rather run off to join the Dalish, but this business really isn't so bad."_

_"It's not?"_

_"No, they're so much fun! There's going to be music, decorations, feasting... " Shianni smiled softly, attaching some flowers to her braids and some in the rest of her mane. Keelan scoffed._

_"You just want to get to the drinking."_

_"Which won't happen until you get going, now will it?" _

_Keelan sighed, "Fine. But you and I are sharing a bottle this time. And we will get __**drunk**__."_

_"That's never in doubt." At that moment they heard someone come into the home. _

_"Keelan?" her father called. _

_"In here, Father. I'll be right out," Keelan called, glancing back at Shianni._

_"Ack! Your wedding is almost starting and I'm not even in my dress!" she rolled off the bed, leaping for the door, leaving Keelan in fits of giggles. "You better be out there, cousin, I _know_ where your hiding spots are, don't forget!"_

_"Get out of here, woman!" she laughed._

_Keelan heard the door slam. Standing, she smoothed the fine material of the white dress. Her fingers played with the rhinestones on her belt, tracing up her midline, past her breasts to the necklace around her neck. The mirror in her room was pathetic, about the size of her hand. It felt like she was looking at someone else. _

_Yet... despite all the fear, the many urges to hike up her dress and run like a mad-woman into the Brecilian Forest, she felt a distinct measure of pride. Yes, she _did_ look rather stunning._

_"Keelan?" her father called again. _

_"Yes, Father, coming." One more glance, she took a deep breath, prepared to face the music._

* * *

><p>The stars were out; calm, peaceful. They were the only constant in this foreign land in which she lived. Ferelden seemed as much a prison as it was her as it was her home. Elves were segregated into the Alienage. Denerim was all she knew, <em>Maker. I have never been further than the docks.<em> To find herself just outside the gates and feel like she crossed the sea. It threw her in a loop.

Keelan dropped her gaze to focus on the crackling fire in front of her, wrapping her cloak tightly around her, keeping a watchful eye on the Grey Warden Duncan sitting across from her.

It unnerved her how he looked at her; he seemed both fascinated and indifferent with her. Like she meant something, but he detached himself. Why... she hadn't been able to discern. Keelan felt like an object, that more than anything angered her. It was always humans. Whenever he looked at her, he saw her, but as a means to an end, it seemed. Duncan didn't _save_ her. Duncan _took_ her.

Her eyelids weighed heavily, desperate to drift into sleep. All her muscles ached. Turns out butchering the guardsmen of half a castle was more exhausting than she had realized. Though Keelan did not want to sleep. The Warden Duncan had prevented her death by conscripting her into his Order. But it was for his advantage, he even said so. What that meant for her? Was she safe? Duncan was clearly a seasoned fighter, and from what she understood of Grey Wardens, they were legendary warriors. Whether they were trustworthy, she had no idea.

"You need your rest, Keelan." The Rivaini man rumbled in his irritatingly calm manner. Keelan frowned. His voice coupled with her exhaustion seemed to be her undoing, despite her reluctance to trust him. She gave Duncan a hard look, allowing herself to slump against the tree.

If anything... she had her blades, and if anything, he had put the reputation of his Order on the line to recruit some elven butcher. The one who butchers nobility to protect her family.

Love was the most powerful thing in the universe...

* * *

><p><em>Keelan's breathing was labored; ragged but controlled and unyielding. Her eyes blazed with a raging fire as her lips curled, revealing white teeth in a feral snarl. Her slender fingers coated in hot blood squeezed the hilt of this blade that was not her own, the squelch elicited a twitch of a manic grin out of her. Keelan watched as the headless body of the bastard son of a whore Vaughan Urien slumped to the ground, spasming in the throws of death. Blood spurted from the artieries in his neck, until it slowly came to an end.<em>

_A piteous whimpering broke Keelan from her ruthless sadism. Eyes once filled with a relentless fire simmered to bear concern and trepidation. She looked down at her hands, dropping the sword. Blood had soaked her wedding dress; what once was white and pure was tainted with _this._ A part of her wanted to name it sin, but in her heart she knew it was only reality. This dress would have borne blood one way or another, be it hers or someone else's._

_The realization that she had taken lives struck her in that moment as she turned to Shianni, wiping her bloodied hands on her skirt. All her life she trained to kill, but nothing she had done prepared her for the consequences. Keelan had taken their breath; she had taken everything they had, and everything they were ever going to have. She kept expecting to feel horrified and disgusted by herself. Instead she felt... nothing. No guilt, no triumph, no pleasure. All she felt was a grim satisfaction that Vaughan lay dead and unable to terrorize the women of her home ever again. All she cared about was getting her cousin out of this hellish place._

_Keelan smoothed Shianni's hair away from her eyes, murmuring soothingly to her. Carefully she helped her cousin to her feet, making herself Shianni's rock. After all, she had to be strong, others relied on her. After everything Keelan had done, she could not fail her mother and father. _

_Not again._

* * *

><p>Keelan opened her eyes sharply. Last night had renewed her strength, and for the following full day of travel she had been biding her time. Duncan had claimed they passed into the Bannorn, South Reach being another day away.<p>

Only... she had no intention of reaching South Reach, let alone Ostagar. This was not her war. She was not some prodigious warrior that could slay dragons. Whatever plans Duncan had waiting for her were not her concern. Her _concern_ lay with her family and her people. Though she could not return as Keelan... she would find a way to gather them and escape.

Perhaps to Kirkwall, the Free Marches. Or even Rivain. It had to be better than Denerim's Alienage.

Cautiously she surveyed the campsite; upon seeing Duncan was asleep, she silently rolled to her feet, gathered her blades and slunk off into the woods. _This is _not_ my war._ She owed Duncan no allegience. He allowed the women to be taken at her wedding, surely. He could have stopped it, but he did not. Why? Because he wanted _her._

As the elf got further and further away from Duncan, she started running. She had no idea where. Her sense of direction was accustomed to the systematic structure of a city, not the chaos of the wilderness. Nevertheless, she pushed forward, disregarding all her fear of the unknown. _Now is not the time for such things,_ she reminded herself.

The land was rugged and wild; the jagged stone stabbed at her feet, despite the durable leather of her boots. In a brief moment she fondly recalled seeing her mother sewing these boots together, but never seeing them finished. It perplexed her how well the boots had fit, considering they _were_ made when she was but an awkward gangly child who enjoyed mischief more than rules. Though as a child, who could argue with such a philosophy?

No one. It's when you grew up that one realized how dangerous that lifestyle is. Not only for oneself, but for others.

* * *

><p><em><strong>12 Cloudreach - 9:23 Dragon,<strong>_

_**Seven years before Ostagar...**_

_Keelan peered around the corner of a shamble of a hut on the outskirts of the Alienage, tucking a tuft of her dirty tangled mess of hair behind her elongated ear. She grinned as she could practically hear her mother in the back of her mind going on about cleanliness and 'being fit for the public eye'. Keelan would often retort that she was too busy 'exploring' to bother with that nonsense, much to her mothers chagrin. _

_Keelan glanced back to her cousin, Shianni, grinning most devilishly for someone her as one would expect of a young troublemaker. Her cousin didn't necessarily share her enthusiasm for said trouble._

_"Your mama told us not to go out this far," she frowned. "We'll get caught for sure!"_

_"Don't worry, Shianni, we'll be okay," Keelan smiled warmly, attempting to reassure her cousin. Soris had been too scared to come along, she didn't want Shianni to leave too. She would be all alone then, and Keelan didn't like being alone. There was no one to impress, then._

_Keelan trotted from her cover down the alleys with Shianni following close behind. They had not even made it halfway to the market square before a human sauntered out from an alcove, flanked by two of his cohorts._

_"Well, boys. It seems we've found our 'quick-fix', haven't we?" The one with a thick red beard chuckled low, a cruel grin plastered on his face. His friends nodded._

_"These two will be enough ta get us free an' clear o' Ferelden, that they will," one said._

_"Maybe if we pretty them up a bit, we'll get a few more sovereigns, no?" The other pitched in._

_Keelan kept her eyes on the three humans in front of her; instinctively she stepped in front of Shianni, slowly moving backwards, away from these people. Keelan knew she was reckless; people told her that all the time, but she wasn't stupid. Whatever these humans were talking about, it meant something very bad for her and Shianni._

_The bearded man took several long strides toward Keelan, reaching out to grab her arm. Keelan ducked to the side, pushing her cousin back._

_"Run, Shianni!" _

_The pair bolted, tearing back down to the Alienage; to safety. Keelan cried out when a hand snatched her by her hair, yanking her back roughly. She screamed when her captor grabbed Shianni's arm, because she had stopped to help her cousin. Keelan snarled protectively, snapping back her elbow into the man's nose. She heard a sickening crunch and a spray of hot blood on her arm. He dropped them both and Keelan wasted no time in helping Shianni to her feet, shoving her toward home._

_"You little knife-eared bitch," the red-beard man choked, blood pouring from his nose. One of his friends, a dark-haired man, rushed Keelan, ignoring Shianni, catching the back of her dress in an iron grip. He twisted her around and delivered her a sharp backhanded slap. Keelan fell the the ground with a cry; stars danced across her vision as she lay there, deciding it was best not to fight right now._

_"Y'all right there, Thoms?" Dark-haired man turned to red-beard._

_"Yeah mate, she got me good." He loomed over Keelan's prone form, smirking, "You aren't getting away this time, runt."_

_As he was reaching down to pick her up, something struck him soundly in the back of the head. He teetered over Keelan and would have fallen, except someone caught him by the scruff and threw him backwards. Keelan's eyes widened in both absolute fear and tremendous relief when she recognized her mother standing where red-beard had been._

_"Get away from her, len'alas lath'din!" Adaia snarled menacingly, rolling her shoulders; her piercing eyes flamed amazement. _

_The humans glared at her, "You realize what you've done, elf? Yeh, you attacked one of us? You attacked a human! You're gonna go down for a long time, bitch, once the guards hear of this."_

_Adaia chuckled humorlessly, "You can't tell them if you're dead. Emma shem'nan. No one will miss two-bit slavers preying on children."_

_The not-dark-haired human turned tail to run as the other reached for a dagger; Adaia launched after him with all the ferocity one would expect of a mother protecting her child._

_Keelan watched in awe as she watched her mother's striking speed and agility in taking down an armed human; gracefully shifting her position when red-beard rejoined the scrap. It seemed effortless and natural. It was... inspiring. One day, Keelan imagined herself just like her mother. Confident, skilled, tough, and a force to be reckoned with. _

_When Adaia stood over her vanquished foes, turning a baleful eye on her daughter, Keelan swallowed hard. Suddenly she remembered that her mother had an uncanny ability to strike fear in the hearts of all. She quickly strode over to Keelan; for a moment it seemed she was unsure whether she should be angry or relieved. In the end, Adaia embraced her daughter, clutching her so tightly as if she might disappear. Keelan wrapped her arms around her mother, shaking slightly as the shock of it all began to wear off._

_"Mother..." she tried to begin. Her mother only squeezed her more tightly._

_"I am so glad you're safe, emm'asha, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."_

_"I'm sorry mother, I'm so sorry."_

_Her mother pulled away, giving her the sternest of looks, "I _warned_ you not to come this far without me. You put Shianni in danger, you put yourself in danger. You're lucky I was already out looking for you when she found me."_

_Keelan hung her head. She was ashamed. Sullenly, she marveled at how well parents wielded guilt against their children. _

_"Come on, let's go home."_

* * *

><p>Keelan paused when she came to a stream too wide to jump. She cursed her luck colourfully in the darkness when she found no quick way through or around the obstruction. Naturally the thought to simply <em>swim<em> the distance had crossed her mind, but her thin clothing and the bracing chill of Harvestmere pursuaded her otherwise.

"My luck is cursed, certainly," she droned sourly.

"I would say so at that," Keelan whirled around at that all too familiar rumble. Duncan stood on the rocks just a few feet above her; his penetrating gaze boring into her. She swallowed hard; frozen to the spot like a rabbit before a fox.

"Duncan..." was all she could muster up. She saw, then, the crossbow he held in his hands.

"Where do you think you would go?"

Keelan snorted, "If you're going to shoot me, human, then shoot me." At that, Duncan shouldered the weapon, cocking his head at her. "Ostagar isn't my problem. This _war_ you're dragging me into is not _my_ problem."

"You would rather have suffered the abuses of an agrieved father in Denerim's dungeons?"

"No!" she threw up her hands, "I should have run to the Dalish when I had the chance! Why didn't you let me go?"

"You would not have made it far. I found you; the city has many fine scouts. They would have tracked you down before you could manage to find the Dalish," Duncan explained calmly.

"What about my- _the_ wedding?" she grimaced at the memory of Nelaros on the floor; his gut splayed open with blood pouring from the wounds and from his mouth like the river at her heels. As he lay dying he gave her the ring he said he made. She wanted to forget, yet she wore the ring on her finger as if it meant something. "Why didn't you stop the Arl's son?"

"Grey Wardens cannot interfere-"

"Bullshit! You gave Nelaros and Soris weapons, you prevented the guards from taking me. So don't spoon-feed me that garbage." In the corner of her mind she could sense her body positioning itself for a fight.

"I needed a Grey Warden recruit, and I found one," the levelness in his voice pushed Keelan over the edge. _He doesn't even regret his part in this!_

"This was your _plan?_" the wave of scenarios and implications washed over her mind. "Did you let them take me.. to see if I could get out? Has that been your game, _shemlen?_ People died! Shianni-" Keelan cut the thought short, turning her head aside in fury.

"Not entirely," Duncan sighed. "I could not interfere directly, though I will not deny that I was curious to see if you would live up to your potential."

"My potential..."

"Yes. You are the daughter of Adaia Tabris. If you recall, I told you that I attempted to recruit your mother into the Wardens, except Valendrian pursuaded me that raising a family was more important to her at the moment. Since there was no Blight, there was no immediate need for Grey Wardens.

"You, on the other hand, may live to serve a greater purpose. You possess your mother's skills, and a greater potential. You cut a swath through trained castle guards to reach your family and your friends; you have suffered because of it, yet you remain strong and in your own mind. Consider that not many would have made it thus far without your abilities."

Keelan shook her head, still desperate to run, "I am still just a child; I butchered only a handful of guards, those who I caught unawares. Maker, I _poisoned_ more than I killed. Now you want me to fight a war against.. darkspawn? Some ancient evil that I have no idea how to fight?"

"Yes. Don't worry; you'll learn." He smiled with cheek.

"I don't _want_ to learn. Don't you understand that? I don't _want any of this._"

Duncan frowned at her vehemence.

"I am afraid that is not your choice anymore. You have been conscripted into the Grey Wardens; it is this, or return home and confront your fate. With us, you have a chance to fight for Ferelden, for Thedas." He paused, a thoughtful look passing his features before he continued, "Consider this: the Blight will spread if we do not stop the darkspawn at Ostagar. They will swarm Ferelden, burning, killing, and devestating even the soil itself as they go. Sooner or later, they will reach Denerim. They will not think twice before butchering your kin before moving on to all of Thedas."

Keelan paled at the imagery. As much as she loathed to admit it, Duncan was right. She may not be able to protect her family directly, but she could keep them safe from this Blight. Keelan hated the idea that Duncan had used her tragedy against her, but in truth, had there been any choice? He used what he could to his advantage. In the end, this worked in both of their favors: she stayed out of the dungeons and certain death, still able to help her family in some way, and he got his precious Grey Warden to fight his _precious_ little war.

How _fantastic_.

"Bastard shem and your blighted..Blight." She curled her lip, "Fine. It's not like I have anywhere else to go..."

'Acceptance of the inevitable was never a childs strongsuit', as her mother used to say. Though to be fair, she was referring to baths and bedtimes.

* * *

><p><em>A loud crash startled Keelan. She gasped, clutching her blanket close to her chest with one hand while instinctively reaching for her makeshift cudgel. She heard several people enter her house.<em>

_"Stay low, stay quiet, Keelan. You hear me?" Her mother whispered, dirk in hand. Keelan nodded silently. _

_"Ehi! You knife-ear'ed bitch! You think you can beat on our mates and not pay the _price_?" one intruder shouted. Adaia flashed her blade._

_"Leave my home, now," she replied, low and steady. The human in front shook his head._

_"We aren't leavin' till we get what we came for." _

_Adaia flowed around the man when he lunged for her, cracking the back of his head with her elbow. She twisted, catching the second's forearm, effectively blocking the shortswords path to her. She socked him in the eye, slipping around to his side to kick the third man in the gut. Adaia met their attacks skillfully, turning their blades away from her, slowly forcing them away from her family._

_Keelan once again watched her mother with a reverence, her fathers grip on her shoulders the only thing holding her back from standing by her mothers side. Except this time, everything came to a screeching halt when she heard a sickening squelch followed by a woman's cry. Keelan's blood ran cold as her adolescent mind struggled to put the pieces together; that the heart-wrenching cry she heard had come from her mother. Keelan screamed as her father called out to his wife. The humans stood around her as the blood pooled from her midsection. The one with the sword responsible turned his head to Keelan; his eyes cold and without regret._

_"You knife-ears should learn your place, I'd hate to make two trips." With that, the group of humans left their shack in silence. As soon as they left, Keelan and her father scrambled over to her mothers side._

_"My love... Adaia.. Keelan, rouse the Hahren; get a healer-" Keelan nodded fervently, bolting to find the Alienage elder. She came back with all the speed she could muster, with the Hahren Valendrian following close behind._

_Adaia lay curled in Cyrion's arms, caressing his cheek as she murmured soothing words to her husband. Cyrion was holding her, hanging on her every word, nodding at pointless endearing instructions. He understood the gravity of her wounds; only magic would save her, and who would spare a mage on an elf? That is if they could get one here in time._

_Cyrion let his tears fall freely; he was lost. Adaia was the star that guided him; this woman who awakened him, lighting that spark of life that only she could find with her roguish ways. She could quell his fears, soothe his aches and pains, and she bore him a beautiful daughter. A wonderful mother and a wife without equal; Adaia had run their home, traveled beyond Denerim on her adventures, and was more than capable of handling herself. This... he glanced at his hand, slick with her blood, this was.. consequence._

_Keelan threw herself by her mothers side with Valendrian. Her mother turned to her daughter, taking her hand with a weak smile._

_"Da'mi," her mother murmured the Dalish pet name Keelan had earned years ago. "You'll be a brave girl, won't you? Be strong for your father, for Shianni and Soris." _

_"Mamae, this is all my fault, I'm so sorry-" her mother squeezed her hand gently._

_"No, Keelan," she coughed, taking in ragged, wheezing breaths. "This was no one's fault but my own, do you understand?" Keelan nodded in despair before turning to Valendrian, who kneeled at her side, giving Adaia a knowing glance._

_"Can't you help her, Elder? Please, you must save her, there must be a way-" _

_"Oh, da'mi. Acceptance of the inevitable is never a childs strongsuit; death is just another path... one that we all must take." Her breathing started to labour more intensely, gasping for air. "I.. love you. I lo- ove you my- child, an- and you, Cyrion, e-mma sa'lath, my love..." With a few more gasping breaths, Adaia stilled, and all there was... _

_... was silence._


End file.
